


begin again

by ObscureReference



Series: (had me feeling like a) ghost [1]
Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canonically diverges from the very end of the game, Gen, Not explicity in this fic but referenced in this fic series as a whole, Passing Out, Past Character Death, Post-Game, Resurrection, Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-28
Updated: 2016-12-28
Packaged: 2018-09-12 19:03:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,892
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9085828
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ObscureReference/pseuds/ObscureReference
Summary: Sometime later, Prompto woke up in a hospital bed.It took a moment for his head to stop spinning. Despite his sore muscles, he eventually managed to sit up, though the weight in his limbs never dissipated. He was wearing one of those thin paper hospital gowns, and his clothes were folded on a side table. Gentiana stood at the foot of his bed, immaculate. “Uh,” said Prompto, his voice echoing throughout the room. His hair felt damp.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Originally I was writing an OT4 Reincarnation AU, but I got frustrated with that and wrote this instead. It takes place (SPOILERS IF YOU DIDN'T READ THE TAGS) after the game, though it diverges from when Noctis gets sucked into the Crystal. Instead of getting sucked in, the Crystal grants him with the power to defeat Ardyn immediately, and the boys set off. Everyone survives the final battle except Prompto, and ten years later, he's brought back to life by Shiva/Gentiana. Thus this fic was born.
> 
> I plan for it to be more of a series, and eventually to become OT4, maybe. I'm leaning toward the boys all being in a relationship before Prompto's death, but I'm still working out the details. But for now, this specific piece is Gen.
> 
> Feel free to correct me about any mistakes you see!

“Gentiana?”

Her name was the first word out of Prompto’s mouth after what felt like an eternity of silence and white. His head felt fuzzy, but Gentiana’s form was sharp and distinct against the bright backdrop. He couldn’t remember anything before her sudden arrival.

She did not step forward. Suddenly she was just _there_. Prompto couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe. Didn’t remember doing either of those things for a long time.

Her long fingers brushed his cheek. Her skin felt like ice.

She said, _“A wish has been granted.”_

And suddenly Prompto was suffocating.

 

 

 

 

It took him a moment too long to realize he was suffocating because he was underwater.

His first instinct was to flail and panic, and somehow that worked in his favor because the next thing he knew he was breaching the surface of the water.

The first breath of air felt like someone had thrust their fingers down his throat and raked at the walls of his lungs with their nails, tearing him apart from the inside out. The second breath felt like winter chill settling creeping down his throat—not sharply, but he was aware of it the way a window must have been aware of frost settling upon its glass.

The third breath was practically easy.

His vision was blurry, but his arm brushed something solid as he floundered, and he immediately latched on, kicking his shoed feet uselessly to keep himself afloat.

He braced his forearms against the cool ground and pulled himself up. His clothes were heavy from the water, and he barely managed to crawl out of the water to his hands and knees. He took a trembling breath and wiped his eyes. The world was white.

“Oh my gods!” Somebody screamed. “Someone fell through the ice!”

 _Ice_ , he thought, pressing his palm to its rigid surface. He was on ice. Oddly, he didn’t feel very cold. Just tired.

There were answering cries, but Prompto couldn’t make them out. His arms were weak, and when water dripped down the bridge of his nose to the ground, he found himself compelled to follow. He laid face down onto the frozen surface of the lake and closed his eyes. The ice was stiff, yet somehow comforting against his cheek.

 

 

 

 

Sometime later, Prompto woke up in a hospital bed.

It took a moment for his head to stop spinning. Despite his sore muscles, he eventually managed to sit up, though the weight in his limbs never dissipated. He was wearing one of those thin paper hospital gowns, and his clothes were folded on a side table. Gentiana stood at the foot of his bed, immaculate.

“Uh,” said Prompto, his voice echoing throughout the room. His hair felt damp.

Gentiana smiled slyly and placed a finger to her lips. It was an obvious code for “Hush.”

He was face to face with a messenger from the gods, and she was telling him to shut up. Cool.

The pillow behind his head was lumpy, and the lights were dim. He couldn’t see a window anywhere, but despite the door being propped open, all was silent. It was probably night.

Gentiana gestured to his clothing.

“You want me to—Oh.” Get dressed, right, of course. “Right. Can you, like, turn around or something?”

He was basically naked, but the thought of removing the thin barrier of cloth that kept him covered and exposing himself to a literal holy messenger made his face hot. Thankfully Gentiana seemed to understand. Her smile widened, but she turned to face the wall.

Funny. He remembered her being a bit more chatty in the past. Her silence was weird.

Then again, he remembered her talking to Noct a lot more, not him. He figured holy messengers didn’t have any words to spare for a commoner like him. He made extra sure his fly was zipped before giving the all clear.

When Gentiana turned, her eyes were shining, and for a woman who never spoke, she seemed unusually pleased. She gestured toward the door with a wide sweep of her hand and walked into the hallway. Prompto stumbled as he followed.

So he was a bit nervous. Who could blame him?

The nurse’s station was empty when they passed, as was the stairwell. Prompto wasn’t sure he was supposed to be walking around like this or leaving a hospital without talking to some kind of doctor first, but Gentiana never paused and he hastened to keep up. He was following someone who spoke to the gods for a living. He figured letting her take the lead was a good choice.

Still, the absence of anybody else was almost eerie.

Things made a little more sense when they stepped outside. It was clearly the middle of the night, and a thin layer of snow and ice dusted the streets. It was the kind of weather that suggested one should wear a jacket, and Prompto rubbed at his bare arms to keep the goosebumps down. He picked up the pace in order to keep warm.

Then he paused. He didn’t remember it being so close to winter. It had been the height of summer when he and the guys had first left Insomnia for the wedding. A few weeks had passed, sure, but he didn’t think it was close enough to the end of the year for snow to fall yet.

Then again, the defeat of some of the gods had contributed to a lot of weirdness lately. It was possible the early snowfall was their fault.

A street sign caught his eye, and all thoughts of the weather came to a halt. Prompto stared.

The street was named _Quintus._ Fifth street. The name rang a bell.

Belatedly—or rather, stupidly—he realized they were in a city. A _big_ city. There weren’t a ton of those left.

And Prompto had only ever been in one where the street signs had the Crown City seal in the corner.

He looked up. There was an iconic Cup Noodles billboard hanging over their heads. He recognized the stain in the corner, the indistinct splotch under the P. He took a long look at the building it hung from, at the hospital he had just left. He had been by this sign, these buildings, before. He had passed by this hospital.

 _Quintus,_ read the sign.

He knew this street. He _knew_ this street.

“We’re in Insomnia?” Prompto breathed. Then, louder, “We’re in Insomnia!”

Finally, he remembered. Everything had been so jumbled up before, and he still couldn’t really remember what had laid him up in the hospital in the first place, but he _remembered._ He remembered coming back to Insomnia, remembered the devastation Niflheim had caused. The area around the Citadel had been all but destroyed, and rubble laid in the streets. The air had still tasted faintly of smoke.

They had come to face Ardyn. They had come to reclaim the throne. It had been dark when they arrived, and—

And—

Prompto frowned. It had been dark when they arrived. Night had stretched on forever. Then what?

Gentiana had not stopped walking, and Prompto looked up just in time to see her disappear around a corner. He jogged to catch up to her, ignoring the protests of his exhausted body.

“Hey, wait!”

The streets were completely empty as they walked. Which was weird, of course, but it didn’t get _really_ weird until they began to approach the Citadel. Then it was _super_ weird. And, if he was being honest, a little scary.

The Citadel looked pristine. Its walls were smooth and solid, completely unlike the destruction Prompto remembered seeing. The Niflheim attack had nearly leveled half the place. And now, here it was, whole and untouched.

He wasn’t sure how to feel about that. Thinking about it too much made his head ache. 

“Where are all the guards?” Prompto whispered. Keeping quiet seemed to be a good idea for some reason.

Gentiana didn’t answer. She walked right through the front gates without hesitation. No guards or soldiers came out to stop her. The front gate stood wide open, like an invitation.

“Hey, what’re we—“ She was gone again. “Aw, come on!”

He caught up to her in the elevator. She was already standing inside, waiting for him to catch up. Prompto slipped in just as the doors began to close.

“Where are we going?” he asked. The words tumbled out of him like a waterfall. “And where is everyone? Where’s Noctis?” Or Ignis or Gladio? He had been surrounded by them for so long that being alone felt uncomfortable.

Gentiana continued to stay silent, and Prompto didn’t know what else to do. The elevator lurched to life, but when he looked, all of the buttons for the floors were dark.

“This isn’t scary at all,” Prompto said. If messengers from the gods understood sarcasm, Gentiana didn’t indicate it.

The elevator doors opened into the throne room. Gentiana swept past him.

Prompto hesitated in the elevator for a moment, unsure of where this was all going, before eventually following. His fist steps echoed throughout the hall. He winced.

“I don’t think I’m allowed in here,” Prompto said quietly. Gentiana? Sure, totally. Him? No way. “Nobody’s even here…”

His voice trailed off weakly. Her silence was really starting to get to him. He brushed a lock of damp hair out of his eyes and trailed after her.

Gentiana stopped at the base of the steps leading up to the throne. She turned around, catching his eye. Prompto was so startled he nearly choked on his own spit.

And then she was gone.

“Whoa, what? Seriously?” No answer. Granted, if Gentiana had still been there, it was doubtful that she would have answered him anyway. “What am I supposed to do here?”

Nothing stood out of place except for the fact that anything had a “place” at all. The throne room, like the rest of the Citadel, was perfect. The tiles were smooth and clean, the walls lined with tapestries baring the royal seal in all its golden curves. The throne was, of course, fit for a king. Prompto had only seen the room once before, the day King Regis had sent Noctis away, but he recognized it all. It looked the same as it had on that day.

Except, obviously, darker. And empty. Because it was the middle of the night.

He thought about getting back on the elevator.

But Gentiana was a messenger, and she had brought him here for a reason. For a message. He needed to find out what it was.

So he did what was probably the stupidest and most disrespectful thing any Crown citizen could possibly do.

He climbed the stairs to the throne.

There had always been a lot of stairs, probably to intimidate anyone addressing the king. Also to let everyone know that the king was on a totally different level than them. That was the message Prompto had gotten when King Regis had sent them off, at least. But boy, were there a _lot_ of stairs. His tired bones ached. By the time he reached the top, his feet were dragging across the steps.

Finally, he reached the throne. Somehow it was even more intimidating up close.

It was monumentally stupid, but it was a night of stupidity, apparently. So Prompto sat down.

 _Next_ to the throne, not in it. Even _he_ wasn’t that dumb. Plus, it wouldn’t have felt right. The throne was for kings and queens and proper rulers. Not commoners.

His legs felt like lead as they folded under him, and he leaned his head against the cool stone arm of the throne. It was too solid to be comfortable, but he’d fallen asleep against worse. Besides, he wasn’t really sleeping. He needed to investigate whatever Gentiana had deemed worth investigating. He wasn’t sleeping. He was just resting his eyes for a moment.

At least, that was what he told himself. He realized he must have dozed off when a gasp woke him up.

“I’m awake!” he yelped, head snapping to attention before he even opened his eyes. “I’m awake, I’m awake! I totally wasn’t— _Whoa_.“

He was looking at Noctis. At someone too old to be Noctis but who still held his distinctive features—the hair, the curve of his jawline, his mouth. Noctis but not Noctis.

Not Noctis wore no shoes, and his crinkled shirt and pants looked like something he had picked up off the floor. Totally unfit for a king. Absolutely fitting for the Noctis that Prompto had always known. But the man in front of him couldn't have been Noctis. Except—

At the bottom of the steps, Not Noctis stared back, his eyes wide and dark.

Only a few steps behind him, Not Gladio and Not Ignis stood still. Gladio was oddly only wearing boxers, leaving his eagle tattoo on full display. Ignis, at the very least, wore sweatpants. They all looked disheveled, like they had rolled out of bed and walked out of their rooms to come here. They looked incredibly out of place for a throne room—all of them, Prompto included.

Not Noctis took a shaky step forward. He placed his right foot on the bottom step like he was getting ready to walk up but then froze as he thought better of it. Prompto could see the way his shoulders trembled from his place at the top.

Prompto tensed.

“Prompto?” Not Noctis croaked.

But it wasn’t _Not_ Noctis, because that was exactly Noctis’ voice, if a bit older than he remembered it. Prompto stared.

There was no mistaking it. The man in front of him was _Noctis._ Somehow. He looked, what, thirty? A quick glance at Ignis and Gladio told him they had also aged the same amount. But how?

Prompto glanced down at himself. He certainly didn’t _feel_ any older. But if everyone else had aged, he should have too.

At the sound of Prompto’s name, Ignis gasped like he’d been shot. Prompto looked at him in alarm. Gladio placed a hand on Ignis’ shoulder, keeping him still. Or maybe supporting him. Prompto wasn’t sure.

It was late, so it made sense that Ignis wasn’t wearing his glasses. His scar was fully revealed, no longer half hidden behind his sunglasses.

“Yeah?” Prompto replied. Everyone was older, Insomnia looked impeccable, and he was being looked at like he was a ghost. His head was spinning again. He buried his groan of discomfort and pressed his shoulder against the throne to support himself. It was a bad idea to stand up, so he didn’t try.

“Gentiana—” He sounded a little older, but suddenly Noctis looked twenty all over again, floundering when the news reached him that Insomnia had fallen and his father was dead. The sight made Prompto’s heart ache. “She said…”

“She brought you here too?” Prompto asked. Of course she had. They all needed to be together if they were going to do whatever she wanted. “Did she say why?”

At the sound of his voice, Ignis jumped again. Not too obviously, but enough to jostle Gladio’s hand. Enough for Prompto to notice.

“What do you remember?” Gladio asked, his voice a low rumble in his chest. The air shifted. Prompto’s hair stood on end.

“Starting from when?” Prompto asked. “Because, dude, you guys look _way_ different, so I think I’m missing a lot. What happened here? Everything so—so _not_ busted, and Gentiana wouldn’t talk to me and I feel like I got hit by a car, and if I’m gonna be honest, I’m kind of _freaking out_ here.”

He was breathing heavily by the time he was finished. It felt like all the air had been sucked out of the room. Was he shaking? He thought he was shaking. It was that or the world was trembling. He pulled his legs close to his body and wrapped his arms around them.

Noctis was still staring, his mouth agape, but Prompto didn’t have anything to offer besides a shake of his head.

“Prompto,” Ignis said, his voice steady despite the way he was leaning on Gladio. For a mountain of a man, Gladio didn’t look that much better off. “It sounds like you’re hyperventilating. You need to breathe.”

“I’m _trying_ ,” Prompto said. It was hard to breathe without any oxygen. He shoved his face into his knees and squeezed his eyes shut.

There was the shuffle of feet and cloth, the _thumpthump_ of several pairs of feet climbing the steps at once. He could feel the heat from their bodies as they crouched beside him but didn’t lift his head.

“It’s okay, you’re okay,” Noctis breathed, so fast his words tripped over each other. “You’re fine, everything’s gonna be fine.”

Prompto wanted to joke that _will be_ was not the same thing as _is_ , but he couldn’t get his tongue to form the sounds. He sucked in a shaky breath. His stomach churned.

Gladio’s broad hand found his back, and the circles he rubbed into Prompto’s skin nearly helped. But it wasn’t enough. Ignis said something, but suddenly Prompto couldn’t focus on the words. Everything had become indistinct, distant.

 _“A wish has been granted.”_ Gentiana’s voice floated through the air. He couldn’t tell if it was coming from inside his head or not. _“A bond sealed.”_

The world faded out.

**Author's Note:**

> I do plan for more interconnected one-shots in this series (as the motivation hits me), but once I further establish how Prompto previously died in the next one, I'm unsure what exact scenes I want to write. I do want to focus on the feeling of "past grief vs Prompto being here now vs I can't lose you again" as well as, on Prompto's end, "Everyone has had 10 years to grow up and grow out of me." I'm just unsure of what specific scenes to write from here, so feel free to suggest some! I kind of want an OT4 focus, so feel free to suggest individual couple scenes or group ones! I can't promise that I'll write them, but I will if I think they can fit into the dynamic/timeline here or if they spur another fic idea! 
> 
> Feel free to leave a comment below or hit me up on my [tumblr!](http://someobscurereference.tumblr.com/)


End file.
